Potter's Poltergeist
by IsNjAkCkTeIwVkE
Summary: The Dursley house is in for a shock after Piers Polkis spends the night. Sixth Sense! Harry. Ghosts AU. One-Shot. Slightly Sympathetic Vernon!


**AN: I don't own Harry Potter. This is a Ghosts AU and a one-shot.**

It was an absolutely normal day in the Dursley household, for if it were anything but 'normal', Vernon Dursley would have a premature heart-attack. If one were to look in their household they would find a very happy family sitting at the breakfast table. Plates of bacon and sausages were pushed to the corners, a pitcher of orange juice sat in the center. Petunia Dursley and Vernon Dursley conversed with their son, Dudley Dursley about their local school's football team.

"I can not believe that imbecile! Not lettin' my son on the football team!" Vernon told his son in particular. He looked into Dudley's watery blue eyes, brought off his finger, telling his son that he meant business, "You're the best of the lot Dudley, that man, Fernly, is just jealous that he can't have a son like you!"

Of course none of what you've just read is actually true. Dudley Dursley was perhaps the lousiest boy one could ever place on the football team. The football coach's name was not even Fernly, rather, Ferris. Not that Vernon cared about that. The family breakfast was not exactly happy. If one were to look in the kitchen, they would find a lone boy who went by the name of Harry Potter, or rather, just Harry. He stared grimly at his bacon, it wasn't like the bacon on the breakfast table, it was either too burnt or too uncooked. He didn't dare touch the juiciest pieces, the ones that looked like he just tore them from the package. It was a risk Harry was not brave enough to take. The reason the young boy, not even eleven, sat at the kitchen counter, was because of one, simple reason. Harry Potter was a freak. It was not a false accusation, but rather, a perfectly true one. Harry saw things that no one else could see.

To the normal human eyes, not freakish Harry Potter eyes, but absolutely normal, they would see flickers, perhaps movement in the corner of the eye. For example, if Dudley Dursley walked upstairs and into his bedroom, he would maybe feel hairs on the back of his neck stick up. Sometimes he'll shudder for no reason at all. Whenever Harry walked into Dudley's room, he was met with a similar, yet much different feeling. A sense of pure dread would feel within Harry, it wasn't just movement in the corner of his eye...It was a whole being in the very center of his view. Sometimes these beings would be...grotesque, as if they had been mutilated in some form. Others were pale, abnormally pale, dark shadows, almost like bruises, would surround their eyes. Harry had figured stuff out about them. The ones with no marks, they didn't speak, or well, they couldn't speak. Those who tried, their voices were like shrieks. Harry had pondered and had come to the conclusion that was how the banshee myths had come about in the first place. There was a much darker theory for the grotesque people, for they could speak, Harry figured they had died screaming or calling for help. If you haven't figured it already, you're probably Dudley Dursley. These beings...They were ghosts and Harry had been able to see them ever since he could remember, for a long time he had been able to keep it hidden to an extent. On this early Monday morning, things changed.

Harry nibbled at his bacon, only the burned pieces of course. He rubbed over the spot on his arm, just under his elbow a large bruise had formed. Piers Polkis had spent the weekend at the Dursley house. While it had been a blast for Dudley, it had been a nightmare for Harry. Thankfully, Harry had been sent to bed at eight o'clock as usual, though he didn't fall asleep until around nine-thirty. He knew Dudley and Piers had probably stayed up waaaay past that time. Harry personally didn't bother to find out what they had gotten up to. It was this morning that he really wished he did.

"Get out."

Harry looked up quickly from his bacon and lightly jumped. He found a ghost...unlike any of the others he had seen. It had yellow, waxy looking skin and it was in the form of an old man. Harry didn't like being rude with using the pronoun of "it" to describe a human-looking person, but it was the feeling which struck Harry's heart just by staring at the old man. "This is not your house," Harry said bravely to the ghost, "Perhaps it was, but not any longer." The ghosts had never hurt Harry, and despite how odd the old man looked compared to the others, he was still (fortunately) a ghost.

The old man chuckled darkly, his yellowed eyes narrowing, and he opened his mouth. This time Harry could see his teeth. They were black and pointy. Harry's heart began to race. One could never get used to talking with the dead for each spirit gave you a different feeling. This spirit made Harry want to do bad things. It made him feel angry, and hateful. Harry didn't like feeling those emotions. It made him feel like the Dursleys. "I said," the old man began once more, "GET OUT!"

Everything made of glass seemed to shatter at once. The glass cabinets, the cups, the bowls, and even the microwave. It was like a bomb had gone off. The sound of glass shattering was all Harry heard when he ducked down underneath his chair, his hands covering his head. He could feel some of the glass particles cut into his hands. Harry bit his lip at the feeling of the stinging cuts.

He could hear the Dursleys practically topple over their chairs, Petunia and Dudley were ushered to the door. Vernon could be heard with his loud thunks, his heavy weight in each step. He made it to the kitchen. "BOY!" Vernon's voice stopped as he made it to the kitchen. "My god…" Harry didn't want to look up, and he wasn't going to look up, until his arms were forcefully thrown off the chair leg and the chair went banging against the ceiling. Out of instinct, Harry looked up and he found Vernon, as pale as the ghost which paraded around town, staring fearfully at the old man...Harry realized with intake of breath that, Vernon could see them...Well maybe not them, but he could see the old man. The old man snarled, looking at Vernon, Harry found the courage to leap towards the exit, next to his uncle. He tried as hard as he could to pull his uncle along with him as he attempted to race to the nearest exit. Uncle Vernon didn't move a muscle, but luckily was broken from his stupor, and he followed Harry quickly, for once letting Harry go first. When they got out of the house, Vernon looked at Harry, his face still filled with fear.. "Boy," he said calmly, "what in the world was that." It was then Harry realized that things were going to be very different in the Dursley family...and that he would never, ever backtalk to yellow-looking spirit. They were bad...very bad.

Harry and Vernon later learned that Piers and Dudley had messed with an Ouija Board and had talked to an old man named Tom Riddle. Tom had frightened them with messages of hate, as well as threats to kill them. They also found out that Tom had been raised in 4 Privete Drive after being adopted into a lovely home. Or so everyone thought until he murdered his parents. Even then, he was not found guilty for he had only been nine years old. He was also ruler of the Walpurgis Mafia. It was safe to say the Dursleys (and Harry) would not be returning to 4 Privete Drive any time soon.

 **Thanks for reading. Perhaps I'll make some more Sixth Sense! Harry one-shots. It's certainly interesting to think about.**


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